


Notes

by yogscastemma



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Professor Kink, Rimming, Smut, this is trash lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 04:04:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5770558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yogscastemma/pseuds/yogscastemma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex is really into his college professor... what happens when he gets caught?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Notes

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Abby (hatphelgms on tumblr) for editing this :)  
> Hope you guys like it!

Just look at the size of that fucking thing.

Smith’s eyes are locked onto the bulge in his professor’s pants. Normally, he sits way up in the back of the classroom, doodling and nestling his latest novel obsession into the pages of his textbook. He’s always been aware of how attractive Professor Hornby is, he just never really got a good, close look at him until now.

This morning, as everyone had lazily filed into class, Hornby had requested that everyone move into the first few rows. He said he was a little hoarse from yelling at some sporting event the day before, and needed everyone to be closer, so he wouldn’t have to strain his voice. Smith just so happened to have sat on the front row, and had been taking in every detail of the gorgeous man as he paced back and forth in front of him.

“Do you plan on taking notes? Or am I boring you?”

Smith snaps out of his thoughts, and his eyes flick from the professor’s crotch to his face. His cheeks immediately feel like they’re on fire as he realizes he’s just been caught ogling his teacher’s crotch. He mutters an apology and ducks his head, scribbling furiously at his notebook and hoping that Hornby shifts his attention off of him quickly.

A few moments later, Smith’s eyes drift over him again, taking in the dark hair that his hand almost itched to run through, the angular, beautiful face that he has tried to make more rugged with a scruffy growth of beard, those piercing ice blue eyes…

…that are currently locked on his.

Smith almost gasps aloud at the intensity of his stare. There’s a mischievous glint in those eyes, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips. Smith would almost swear that he meant that as the seductive gesture that it seemed to be. He shifts uneasily in his seat, feeling a tingling between his legs that might soon demand some attention.

The lecture continues, and Professor Hornby slips his jacket off, draping it over the back of his chair, and proceeds to roll up his sleeves to the elbows. Fuck. Even his forearms are sexy. Smith rolls his eyes. _This is getting fucking ridiculous. You’re getting all hot and bothered over a man revealing just his forearms. What the fuck is wrong with you? Whoremones?_

He jots down a few more notes, though the words on his page are disjointed and nonsensical. There’s no way that he’s going to be able to make any sense of this shit later. He might as well not even be taking any notes.

_The man apparently has a huge cock._

Smith almost snickers out loud as soon as he writes it. He bites down on his bottom lip and glances around, making sure no one can see what he’s writing.

_What I wouldn’t give for him to bend me over that desk of his and fuck me until my legs give out._

This time, he does snicker, and the professor’s eyes flicker over to him. Smith quickly clears his throat and innocently slides his hand over his notes as Hornby moves closer. Smith’s pulse is pounding as his eyes move down to his paper and his eyebrow arches.

“Something funny?” he asks.

Smith shakes his head emphatically. “No, sir.”

He stops directly in front of him, and it literally takes every single ounce of self-control that Smith possesses to not stare at his crotch. He can see it in his peripheral vision, and it’s almost like it’s fucking calling him. He feels his face flush once more, and he bites down on his bottom lip again. _Oh fuck. I’m gonna lose it._

He’s just about to excuse himself, maybe feign illness, anything to extricate himself from the increasingly embarrassing situation that he’s found himself in, when Hornby concludes the lecture. Still standing in front of Smith, he dismisses everyone.

While he’s looking around at the other students, Smith allows his eyes to dart to his bulge yet again, and he licks his lips, an involuntary soft moan escaping him before he can stop it. He feels Hornby’s eyes move back to him, and he carefully avoids them as he gathers his backpack and sweatshirt.

He’s just stood up and began to head for the door when he hears his name called. His heart stops for a second, and he slowly turns around to see Hornby heading for his desk. He sits in his chair, legs splayed, and there’s a hint of something wicked in his eyes and the ghost of a smile that plays on his lips.

“Would you mind waiting after class? I’d like to speak with you.”

Smith nods, certain that he’s in big trouble. He’ll no doubt be punished in some way for being disruptive. He’ll probably get an extra assignment that will fuck up his weekend.

“Shut the door.”

He does.

“Lock it.”

There’s a spike of exhilaration that courses through him at that. _Calm the fuck down. He probably just doesn’t want to be disturbed while he’s bitching you out._ He locks the door and then slowly cross the classroom to stand beside Hornby’s desk.

He sits silent for a moment, assessing Smith with his eyes, and seeming to have an internal debate about something. He looks as though he wants to say something, but isn’t certain how to proceed. Finally, he sighs and his eyes drop to Smith’s backpack.

“I want to see your notes for today.”

Immediately, Smith begins to stammer and stutter his excuses and apologies, transferring his book bag to a double-fisted hold behind his back. There’s no way in hell that he can allow this man to see what he wrote.

Hornby stands to his feet and steps up close enough that Smith can feel his breath on his face. He isn’t sure whether to swoon or bolt for the door. Hornby reaches around behind him, and takes hold of his bag. All the air leaves his lungs as Smith feels that bulging crotch press softly against him, and the heat in his stomach intensifies to nuclear meltdown proportions.

Hornby tugs at the bag, and Smith is reluctant to let it go, clutching it firmly with both hands. He reaches with his other hand, his arms now fully encircling Smith, and slowly pries his fingers from their grip, his body flush against Smith’s own.

When he has the bag in his hand, he regards Smith for a moment longer, and then steps away, placing the bag on his desk and unzipping it. He pulls out Smith’s notebook and flips through the pages until he finds the one he had been writing on.

Hornby sits back in his chair, knees spread wide again, and reclines slightly, the creak of the springs in the back of his chair sounding loud in the otherwise silent classroom. His eyes run over the scrawled words on the page, and then up to Smith.

He hands him the notebook. “Read the last two sentences aloud, please.”

Smith takes the notebook in his shaking hands, feeling a combination of insane lust and mortification. “Professor, I -”

“Read the last two sentences aloud,” he repeats, his voice stern and commanding.

“The man apparently has a huge cock,” Smith mutters, wishing he could sink right through the fucking floor and straight into hell to escape the awkwardness.

“Continue.”

“What I wouldn’t give for him… for him to bend me over that desk of his and fuck me until my legs give out.”

Smith raises his eyes from the page and find that Hornby’s eyes are locked on his mouth, and his tongue is dancing over his bottom lip.

“Read the last sentence again,” he demands.

“What I wouldn’t give for him to bend me over that desk of his and fuck me until my legs give out.”

Smith can feel his cock growing hard in his boxers. The combination of reading something like that aloud in front of his professor, along with the way he’s currently devouring Smith with his eyes is almost enough to give him a spontaneous orgasm.

“Do you really want me to fuck you?” Hornby asks, his voice a low growling whisper.

Smith whimpers and shift on his feet, pressing his lips together in a thin line, a failed attempt to prevent any more desperate noises from escaping.

“I asked you a question, Alex,” Hornby drops a hand from the arm of his chair to his crotch, pressing against the growing size with the palm of his hand. “Do you really want me to fuck you?”

Smith nods, feeling a little light-headed as his breathing quickens, the use of his name making him dizzy.

A wide smile stretches over the professor’s lips, and he motions to his desk. “Come stand here.”

Smith moves over in front of him, between his splayed knees, leaning his backside against the edge of the desk.

“Turn around.”

He turns around and faces the desk, his entire body shaking with anticipation and adrenaline.

“Bend over, and grasp the other edge of the desk.”

Smith bends over and does as he’s told. He can feel the professor’s eyes on his ass, and a shiver runs down his spine as he feels his trousers being pulled down his legs. He feels the lightest touch of Hornby’s fingertips at the waistband of his tented boxer shorts, before he’s tugging them down and off of him, dropping them to the floor.

Smith waits to see what Professor Hornby’s going to do, his nerves wreaking havoc on himself until he feels his breath against the curve of his ass. After an agonizing moment, Smith feels the tip of his tongue probing his tight hole.

Smith gasps, and the professor pushes his tongue harder against him, a soft moan reverberating from his mouth. His tongue flourishes in intricate designs against him, and Smith lets out a soft cry.

Professor Hornby’s hands move to grip his flesh, spreading him wide as he runs his tongue along the length of his hole. When he dips his head and begins to flick his tongue, Smith buries his mouth on his arm, crying out against his own skin in an effort to muffle the sound.

Hornby’s attentions are torturous, teasing Smith relentlessly to the edge of orgasm, then stopping just short of gratification. It’s maddening, really, and only becomes more so when he opens his desk drawer, taking a small bottle of water-based lube and squirting a generous amount onto his fingers, beginning to insert them into Smith. When he feels Smith is stretched enough, he begins to curl them, searching for that sweet bundle of nerves.

“Please, professor,” Smith whines breathily, “more.”

“Call me Ross,” Hornby replies, “since we will be getting to know each other much better from now on.”

Smith is squirming on the desk, begging and whining, and Ross chuckles as his fingers continue to massage Smith on the inside. His body tenses in preparation for the orgasm that is about to roll through him, but Ross withdraws his fingers, leaving Smith shaking and groaning at the loss.

“You will not cum until I give you permission, Alex. That is your punishment for your behavior today. Understood?”

Smith whimpers and nods, hearing a faint crinkling of foil, and then suddenly he is stretched further than he has ever been as the professor’s cock slides into him. Hornby lets out a shuddering breath as his pelvis grinds slowly against Smith’s ass, his hands splaying out on either side of him on the desktop.

“Mmmm…good boy. You feel so good,” he croons, withdrawing ever-so-slowly and then sliding back in to the hilt. He twirls his hips and his cock moves inside of Smith, reaching deep inside and filling him completely.

As Ross starts a languid pace, Smith finds his eyes rolling back in his head. Although he hasn’t actually seen it, he can feel that Hornby’s cock is the biggest he’s had, both in length and girth. It’s causing Smith to ache through his entire being, his body demanding more- deeper, harder, faster movement. He rocks his hips backward, letting go of the edge of the desk and pushing back against Ross to meet his thrusts.

He feels a sharp sting as Hornby slaps his hand against his bare ass, and then his other hand is winding into his hair, fisting it tightly in those long, elegant fingers.

“Did I tell you to let go of the desk?”

“No,” Smith gasps, reaching for the edge of the desk again.

Hornby quickens his pace, and the classroom is filled with the sound of his pelvis slapping against Smith’s ass, his moans and whimpers, and the low growls and grunts that are jarring out of Ross.

Hornby roughly kicks Smith’s feet further apart and grasps his hips with both hands, leaning back and tilting his pelvis as he drives into him faster and faster.

Smith feel the orgasm building inside of him, and he can’t keep still. He begins to rock up on his toes with each thrust, and roll his hips to meet Ross’s.

“I can’t…I have to…”

Smith is reeling, and his body is beginning to twitch and spasm.

Hornby leans forward, over Smith’s back, pulling his hair and turning his head to the side. “Don’t you dare,” he hisses into his ear.

“Please…” Smith whines, clenching his muscles around Ross’s cock and panting with the effort to not orgasm.

“No,” he growls.

Hornby suddenly pulls out of him and yanks his hair, forcing him upright. He spins Smith around to face him and forcefully kisses him, reaching down to grasp him under one thigh and pulling his leg around his waist. He pushes Smith onto his back on the desk and breaks from the kiss, lifting his legs over his shoulders and sheathing himself fully once again.

The professor’s head falls back and his eyes close as he pumps into him. The sensation of the new position has Smith clawing at the desktop, Ross’s forearms as he grips his waist, anything within reach as Hornby speeds up and bares his teeth.

Smith is falling right over the edge of insanity when the professor releases one of his hips and wraps his fist around Smith’s length, pumping up and down as he pounds into him. Smith’s mouth drops open in a silent scream, and Hornby opens his eyes, dropping them to his face.

“Cum. Now.”

Smith relaxes his body and he is suddenly convulsing, his back arching up off of the top of the desk as Ross struggles to hold him down. His muscles constrict around Hornby’s cock, and he falls forward over him, jerking and gasping as though he is a drowning man in his final death throes. He whispers a string of expletives against Smith’s chest and then bites down on the fabric of his burgundy shirt with a deep groan, pistoning his hips forward one last time as he empties into the condom.

After a moment of stillness, Professor Hornby slowly raises up off of him, gazing down at his face with a fierce flash in his eyes. He caresses Smith’s face with the back of his hand, showing one moment of tenderness before sliding out of him, letting his hands run over his quivering thighs.

“Well, now. I believe that concludes the lesson for today. What say we pick this up again on Monday?” he says with a grin.

**Author's Note:**

> eeeeepp! let me know what you think in the comments, please.  
> Emma (pausedyogs on tumblr)


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